


Tactile

by MrHooty



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrHooty/pseuds/MrHooty
Summary: Orihime has accepted that her boundaries will never be respected, but Ichigo is too good of a friend to allow that. (ichihime)
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Tactile

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've written for them. I miss them. Pls enjoy :)

She’d never been a particularly touchy person. At best, she’d only really tolerated being touched -- at times a hug felt constricting, a caressing hand on her arm or her shoulder enough to send nausea rocketing through her middle -- and at worst, she shrank away from it. Never quite rejecting it; the words always dying on her tongue. Orihime could not explain why. The tools to identify these feelings, if they were really anything to be concerned with, were lost to her. Was it childhood trauma, or simply a matter of preference?

Now and then, she craved it. The pull of Tatsuki’s arm around her shoulders bringing with it the warmth of familiarity. The gentle squeeze of Ichigo’s hand on her arm, flooding her with excitement, with security.

Orihime never really shared this with anyone, for fear of being pressed for further information. Could she justify it?

During middle and high school, Orihime had been tormented by overtly familiar hands. Her hair tugged on and brushed through by curious fingers -- escalating, ever escalating until she wound her hair over her shoulders; until she walked up the stairs with her hands folded over the hem of her skirt; until she pressed a hand over the collar of her shirt when she passed boys, much taller than her. It never mattered where, or when. Orihime found herself deciding between outfits at the beginning of the day, wincing when she recalled what this one boy said about this shirt, or these jeans, and she always, always pulled on an oversized sweater or cardigan. How this became a staple of her wardrobe for a long time. 

She noticed, after Ichigo and the boys began to hang out with her group at school, that this became a little less frequent. They shared classes, a lot of the time, and it became habitual that he walked her to class. Sometimes as a group, sometimes not. The casual touching stopped, as if a switch had been flipped, and Orihime began to feel herself relax, a little. Was it him? She could never be sure.

It was only during an outing, on the weekend, when Orihime had chosen to wear a low-cut top, and a pair of shorts, that it became tangible. In the middle of selecting between a couple of options at a vending machine, she felt a hand on the back of her neck -- the fingers pressing underneath her jawline. She’d only had a chance to tense up, before she heard the stranger yelp. She twisted, suddenly released, to watch Ichigo jerk the other boy’s arm behind his back, his other hand coming up to wrap around the back of his neck, in a similar fashion as she had been. He slammed the boy effortlessly against another vending machine, and the boy sputtered apologies. 

“Apologize to _her_ ,” Ichigo said, and although his face was passive, his eyes were burning. His voice course with fury. “You don’t just put your hands on people without their permission.”

“K - Kurosaki-kun,” she began, but hesitated. Was it relief she felt, him being here? Or concern for the boy? She reached out to touch his arm, or his back, or his shoulder, and pulled back quickly. 

“Apologize,” he commanded, twisting the boy's face toward her. “ _Now_.”

His eyes were filled with tears of pain. He could barely look at her. “S… Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ichigo did not release the boy until Orihime said, “It’s okay. Please don’t...do that again.”

He turned to her, as the boy tore off. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay,” she assured, her heart racing inexplicably. 

“That was unacceptable of him,” he continued, and looked at her a little more carefully. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He startled me, is all.”

“Does this happen often to you?”

The question surprised her so much, she replied honestly, “A little.”

His face pinched with worry. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Inoue. Why didn’t you tell me before? I would have never left you alone.”

She felt her face burn, looking at her feet. “This is normal for me.”

“This is _not_ normal, Inoue,” he said vehemently, moving toward her. “How often does this happen to you?”

She hesitated, before saying, “It depends on what I’m wearing…”

His expression shifted, but she couldn’t fully identify what he was feeling. 

“I should have known,” she said quickly, lifting her hands. “It’s completely my fault.”

He reached up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Inoue… You can’t really think that.”

She fidgeted, uncertain of what to say. How to explain this to him, in a way he could understand? She glanced at her muddled reflection on the glass of the vending machine. She wasn’t naive, of course. The warm weather had been the reason for the sparse clothing. On another person, say Tatsuki or Rukia, this outfit wouldn’t bring any unnecessary attention. The blouse she chose today was a comfortable material, but form fitting on her. It clung to her like a second skin. On the hanger it was a limp, rumpled mess. Made for this weather. The shorts were shorts. They sat a little higher than mid-thigh. 

That’s all. 

She knew he was right, but she stared and stared, frowning. Discomfited. Until she saw his reflection move, his head lifting, and then following her gaze. She looked down quickly. 

“No,” he said, suddenly resolved. “Stop minding what you wear. This shouldn’t be a concern for you.”

“But -- ”

“Nobody is going to touch you again without your permission. I promise you.”

She felt something grow lighter in her chest, her breath coming up short. 

“I mean it,” he said, as if she could have possibly doubted him. 

This became somewhat of a common occurrence, from there on. On their outings Ichigo followed along behind her wherever she went. Never so close it was terribly obvious. It was only on the rare occasions that she needed to break off for something that he, too, broke off. Always casually, without any real explanation for it. She would go to the restroom, and when she would come back out again, he would be leaning against the wall waiting for her; she would separate at the store to look at some items more closely, and he would be a few paces away looking at something else, as if he’d always intended to do so.

Tatsuki eventually noted this in conversation with her, hiding her grin behind her hand as she said, “He’s acting like he’s your boyfriend.”

Orihime’s face burned and she sputtered protests, but inside, she felt her heart soar. Just at the words. 

Ichigo, her _boyfriend_. Such a dangerous thing to even think. As if it could ever happen. She shouldn’t allow herself such wistful thoughts.

Still, when she approached him waiting for her outside the restrooms, or when she neared him out of curiosity at the store, he gave her a little smile that sent her heart stuttering. Something soft and comforting, that she selfishly allowed herself to think he was catering only to her. 

She allowed herself that, at the very least.

.x. 

This made the remainder of high school bearable. There were admittedly some rumors that they were in fact secretly dating, but this never seemed to concern him. Part of her felt somewhat disappointed that he didn’t give a reaction to it, but it was better than the alternative -- him being disgusted by the thought. 

Soon after graduation, she made sure to thank him for looking out for her. This felt less necessary as they grew older. Boys became less brash with her. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was a little older, or because she seemed more certain of herself. 

Ichigo assured her he would always keep an eye out, and to reach out to him if she ever felt uncomfortable in a situation.

This was a little less likely, as they weren’t going to be attending the same college. But he was dead serious, so Orihime agreed to call if anything. 

College was a different ballpark. She of course no longer needed to wear a uniform, and this seemed to provide less avenues for unwanted grabbing. At first she tried to maintain a set style at school, but eventually opted for more comfortable outfits. She still heard the comments, which never failed to make her feel uneasy, but she’d been hearing this for as long as she could remember. 

They were somewhat more crass now, and perhaps that came with adulthood? 

Despite everything, she had hoped that now without the possibility of seeing Ichigo day in and day out, she would be able to move on. This wasn’t the case. Boys approached her, all the time -- the questions ranged. Some respectfully asked if she would like to get coffee some time, and some were exceptionally forthright with what they wanted from her. Orihime had long since perfected the art of rejection. Always smiling, always apologetic. 

Easiest was to say, “I have a boyfriend. Sorry!”

When pressed, she would continue with, “He goes to another school! He’s studying language arts…”

And then if pressed further, she brought up his photo, smiling stiffly. 

They typically backed away after that. 

She mentioned this to Ichigo, some weeks later. She was filled with shame, showing him the photo she used to convince them of her lies.

He was wholly unbothered. In fact, he encouraged it. He pulled out his own phone and asked, “Why not use this photo instead?”

It was one taken of their group, rather recently. They’d been out for lunch, and in this picture they stood outside the restaurant posing together. Ichigo on one side of Orihime as always at this point. 

“We can crop the others out,” he suggested, and began doing so.

This way, it was only them two. Both dressed for the cold weather. Ichigo in a thick black jacket with faux brown fur around the hood, a black beanie, and with one arm around Orihime. And Orihime, in pastels. Hair braided, face red from what appeared to be the cold, but she knew to be the proximity. He had asked her beforehand if it was okay for him to put his arm around her, and she had stuttered her consent. She had been squeezed into him, and in the group picture it looked innocent. Truly just two friends posing for a picture. Cropped by themselves, they definitely looked like a couple. 

Ichigo sent the photo to her. 

She clutched her phone to her. “You’re -- You’re really okay with me pretending you’re my b-boyfriend?” she squeaked.

“Of course I am,” he said with a shrug. “Everyone thought we were dating by the time we finished high school. No big deal, right? If it helps guys leave you alone, I’m totally fine with it.”

She saved the photo as her wallpaper, and then his contact photo. This felt completely unreal. “Thank you,” she mumbled softly. 

“Of course,” he replied. “Anytime.”

So it made things infinitely easier when she turned other boys down, but equally more difficult to let go of her crush.

She caught herself staring at the photo on more than one occasion. It depressed her how hung up she was.

She marked her calendar, and set the goal for herself to begin the process of moving on. There had to be someone else out there for her. There had to be.

.x.

She had made a couple of friends in college. Mostly acquaintances, but they often asked to hang out. She agreed, but had begged a few of her existing friends to accompany her. Of course they all agreed. It wasn’t entirely often they had chances to get together.

They had decided on karaoke, which Ichigo woefully hated. 

Everyone had arrived before her. Outside, Ichigo waited for her as he always did. He ushered her inside and led her to the room they’d been taken to. As they sat down, one of her acquaintances blurted, “Oh, this is your boyfriend, right? The one with the orange hair and the grumpy face.”

Ichigo made some sort of reaction. Some sort of alertness coming over him as he looked at Orihime, who was frozen with disbelief. 

She had completely forgotten this was someone she had turned down before. She felt herself glance at her friends, who looked to her and Ichigo wordlessly.

Tatsuki had a horrific smile on her face. Just as Keigo’s mouth fell open to screech something or another, her elbow came sharply against his ribs.

“Oh, sorry,” the boy who had spoken up said, noting the strange atmosphere that had fallen over them. “I didn't mean to offend you.

“It's okay,” Ichigo said smoothly, turning back to them. “Yes, I'm In – Orihime's boyfriend. Nice to meet you. Kurosaki Ichigo.”

Orihime felt her face heat up. He had never used her given name before.

“I can’t believe it,” the other boy laughed. “I thought she was lying. She was so evasive about you.”

“We haven’t been dating long,” Ichigo continued. 

“Oh, no?”

Ichigo caught the flicker behind the other boy’s eyes and said, firmly, “We’ve known each other since middle school, though. So we’re pretty serious.”

Orihime straightened, surprised. 

“I see. Well, it’s great to meet you finally.”

She sighed with relief, but tensed up again when she noticed her other friends staring. An explanation was expected. 

The rest of the night went mostly okay. She was pleased at least that everyone seemed to get along well. By the time they decided to call it a night, she had managed to convince herself that the stint from earlier had been forgotten. They said their goodbyes outside, and as her classmates took their leave, her friends turned to her – quelling any hope she'd had.

“So you are dating,” Keigo said plainly, the complete lack of surprise on his face somewhat unsettling.

“No – ” Orihime quickly protested, hands flying up.

“Inoue and I have an understanding,” Ichigo said instead, carefully brushing a hand against her shoulder. He smiled faintly when she looked at him, as if gauging her response. “That's all.”

Keigo looked nonplussed, but Tatsaki slapped his arm. “If a dude's making Orihime uncomfortable, she tells them Ichigo is her boyfriend and they back off. That's the understanding.”

“That's dumb.”

“It's obviously working,” Tatsuki snapped at him. She folded her arms, turning to Orihime. “It _is_ working out for you, right?”

“Yes,” Orihime assured. “I...couldn't thank Kurosaki-kun enough, honestly.”

“So, what, does this mean anytime you hang out around these people you have to pretend you're dating?” Keigo asked.

“It does seem somewhat inconvenient,” Ishida commented for the first time, skeptical.

“I don't spend a lot of time with them,” Orihime said. “I...really forgot he was one of the people I said that to.”

“ _He's_ one of the creeps? Jeez.”

“You get the idea,” Ichigo said irately. “Can we go eat now?”

It effectively ended the conversation, and at the very least for the duration of that evening nobody asked any further questions. As they parted ways, Ichigo took the time to apologize for grabbing her shoulder earlier. Something she'd already forgotten had happened.

“We'll hang again soon,” Ichigo said.

“Yes,” she confirmed, with a nod. “Soon.”

Tatsuki walked her home that night. At first feeding into old conversations they'd had in high school, in which Tatsuki painted scenarios of Ichigo and Orihime and encouraged Orihime to make her move. “You're so close!” she exclaimed, punching the air eagerly. “Just ask him for real!”

“It's not that easy,” Orihime mumbled. “He doesn't seem interested at all.”

“Are you _crazy_?”

“Please, Tatsuki,” she sighed, moving past her. “I... I can't. I need to get over him. This is really setting me back on that.”

“Are you sure?” Tatsuki asked, matching her pace. Her brow was pinched with worry. “You've been in love with him since – ”

“I am sure,” Orihime said quickly, hugging herself. “Kurosaki-kun and I... There's just no way. I mean, look how indifferent he was tonight...”

Tatsuki clicked her tongue, visibly disappointed. “Okay. I'm with you no matter what.” She slung an arm around Orihime's shoulders, pulling her in for a quick, reassuring hug.

Orihime sighed, “Thank you, Tatsuki.”

.x.

One of her classmates brought up hanging out again, to which she enthusiastically agreed to without first asking for the details. It wasn't until the night before, as she was deciding on her outfit for the day, that she received the message from her classmate asking: _Does your bf like dessert?_

Confused, Orihime folded the blouses she'd been holding over the back of her desk chair. She messaged back: _What do you mean?_

 _We thought maybe going to an ice cream parlor after the movie,_ she messaged back.

Orihime felt her heart skip, fighting off the dawning suspicion. _Who?_

 _My bf and I, silly_.

Orihime twisted around to look at her closet, and then her phone, at a loss. She thought back to their conversations, and realized with a shaky sigh that all the times her classmate had gone over their plans, she'd been using “we” as in herself her boyfriend and not herself and Orihime. She sat down at the edge of her bed, at a loss. It was far too late to cancel their plans. She felt like a fool.

She pulled up his phone number, heart hammering, and spent the next ten or so minutes struggling with the decision to call him. She felt so incredibly guilty.

This was so last minute, and so demanding of her. He had a life of his own, and she wondered if she was constantly interfering with it. She wondered if he grew tired of it.

She wondered if maybe she was getting in the way of him pursuing someone he was _actually_ interested in.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, and only decided to take the leap when her classmate sent a follow up message.

He answered on the second ring: “ _Hello? Inoue?_ ”

“Kurosaki-kun,” she said, at first with strength and then losing it all entirely. She hesitated, growing quiet.

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

“Yes,” she choked out, clutching at the collar of her shirt. “I... I... I had a favor to ask...”

His response was immediate, “ _Anything_.”

She folded a hand over her mouth, flooded with guilt. She rushed the words out. “My classmates invited me out to the movies, but I didn't realize it was a double date until just now, and they asked specifically for you and I don't know what to say, so – ”

“ _Oh_ ,” he murmured, over the line, and she snapped her mouth shut. “ _Yeah, I can go. When is it?_ ”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't deserve him. “Tomorrow evening.”

“ _I'll be there._ ”

“They, um... They asked if you'd like ice cream.”

“ _I'm not against it_.”

She felt herself smile, filled with relief. “Okay. I'll let them know.” She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper, “Thank you, Kurosaki-kun. I owe you.”

“ _No worries,_ ” he assured. “ _Just text me the details._ ”

When they hung up, she stood in the middle of her room for a moment, uncertain of what to do with herself. She turned to her closet again, and immediately began to reevaluate her selection.

.x.

For the cool spring weather, Orihime had decided on a soft pink camisole, a cream knit cardigan, jeans, and a pair of sandals. She'd fretted over her hair for a good several minutes, nervously counting down the seconds. She and Ichigo had decided to meet ahead of time, to give the impression they were arriving together. She had originally insisted on meeting at the corner market near him, but he was steadfast it made more sense for him to collect her from her apartment first.

She was sifting through her mail at her kitchen table when she heard him knock. She jumped out of her chair, slamming her knee against the table edge in the process. She winced, rubbing at her knee, and wobbled over to grab her bag from the couch. She composed herself before opening the door.

Breathlessly, she took in his appearance – a soft gray knit sweater, the sleeves pushed back over his forearms, solid black jeans, and a new pair of sneakers; at least a pair she'd never seen on him before. He wore a black beaded bracelet, and a threaded necklace with a silver pendant. He was freshly shaved, and it was a moment before she caught the waft of cologne. Something sharp and masculine.

She found herself sniffing appreciatively before she could stop herself, and blushed when he smiled in response.

“It's new,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“It smells wonderful,” she admitted.

“Thanks.”

She fidgeted, nearly inviting him in out of habit. She caught the edge of her door, faltering.

“Shall we get going?” he asked, nodding toward the stairwell.

“Oh! Yes!” She stepped out, narrowly avoiding him, and turned to lock her door. “Lead the way.”

A while back, Ichigo had gotten his hands on an older car. One of the only ones in their group to have one. His commute to school and work had been excessive enough he decided there was a need for it. The car sat in one of the parking spots downstairs. She made a beeline toward it, but skittered to a stop when he opened the passenger door for her.

At her hesitation, he seemed to become nervous. “Sorry, is this weird?” he asked, and made to shut the door again. “I really shouldn't assume you're okay with things. This must feel forceful.”

“It's okay!” she rushed to say, moving forward. “Thank you. I appreciate the gesture.”

She folded herself into the seat, tucking her feet in exaggeratedly so he could close the door. He rounded the back of the car as she buckled herself in. The interior was mostly immaculate. There was a car freshener wedged into one of the little vents, and he had receipts from gas station convenience stores, and fast food places he'd likely visited during lunch breaks. He promptly buckled himself in, plugged in his phone, and started the engine.

“So the movie theater downtown?” he asked, shifting into reverse.

“Yes, that's right – ” Her voice subtly hitched, leaning away as he placed a hand on her headrest. He twisted to look behind them as he pulled out of the parking spot. When his eyes flickered down to her, she tore hers away. Down to her fingers, which were twisting together in her lap.

He corrected himself and pulled out of the parking lot. “What's the movie again?”

She went over the synopsis with him again, this time in more detail. It was a little easier to talk to him like this, watching the buildings roll behind them as he drove. He never took his eyes off the road as they spoke, which was soothing to her. “Sorry again for dragging you into this. You must have had other things to do.”

“No,” he admitted around a smile. “Besides, I'd like to think of this as an excuse to hang out with you. We don't see each other as often as I'd like, since we started college.”

She caught herself staring at him, surprised. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah. Don't you think so, too?”

“Well,” she said, looking down again. “I...would like to hang out more often, too. I just wasn't sure how to ask.”

“You don't even need to ask,” Ichigo joked, rolling to a stop at a light. This allowed him to look at her, which made her breath come short. “Just name the time and place, I'm there.”

She smiled back shakily. “I'll become selfish.”

“I don't mind that,” he said lightly, and she snapped her mouth shut again.

She wasn't certain how to interpret that.

Thankfully, they were coming upon the parking structure for the theater, so the conversation shifted to figuring that out. Her classmate and her boyfriend stood waiting for them outside the theater. They were greeted warmly, her classmate immediately coming forward to greet Ichigo with a, “Nice to finally meet you!”

They purchased their tickets, and as they were moving toward the concession stand her classmate leaned toward her to say, “You make such a cute couple!”

She was riding that high for the remainder of the evening.

They chose decent seats, with Orihime and her classmate sat in the middle. Ichigo was setting his phone to silent beside her while the couple beside them chattered about something private. She cleared her throat and leaned toward Ichigo. “Thank you again,” she whispered.

He smiled at her. “Hey, don't mention it.”

The movie was mostly forgettable, and through most of which the couple beside them seemed mostly engrossed in one another. She and Ichigo shared some popcorn, and it was inevitable that at some point they'd reach at the same time for a handful.

“Sorry,” he murmured to her as she jerked her hand away.

“It's okay,” she whispered back. He urged her to take her handful anyway. It was upsetting how close they were – it reminded her of the countless amount of times she had imagined this exact situation. Except in her fantasies, they were holding hands. Sharing a soda. Leaning her head against his shoulder. Instead, she felt awkward and nervous and anxious.

She swallowed hard, holding her arms against herself.

After the movie, her classmate suggested that ice cream place she'd mentioned the night before. This seemed simple enough until her classmate insisted they try this one particular ice cream.

“It's kind of cheesy,” her classmate admitted around a laugh. “You do have to share it. But it's super tasty!”

So there they sat at one of the outside tables, picking at the same bowl of ice cream and trying to seem natural about it.

“How long have you two been dating?” his classmate asked, looking between them. The question seemed harmless, but it made Orihime hyper aware of what they were doing.

“Almost a year,” Ichigo said nonchalantly.

“How did you _meet_?”

“We went to the same middle school. Her best friend was my childhood friend. We share circles.”

“Oh? Why didn't you date back then?”

This one felt somewhat personal. “We wanted to focus on our studies,” Orihime answered for him. “After high school, we just decided to take the chance anyway.”

Ichigo rolled a cherry toward her. “How do you know Orihime?” he asked the other girl, diverting the attention away from them.

The other girl was more than eager to talk about herself, so they left it at that.

When they parted ways, the girl admitted, “You know, last time we hung out, we weren't all too sure about you.”

“Me?” Ichigo asked, confused.

“The boys all thought Inoue-san was lying about having a boyfriend, since she always made excuses for why you couldn't hang out,” the girl said plainly. “We thought she made you up. And then when we went to karaoke, you didn't seem so sure of yourself. That was our mistake, obviously. We shouldn't have doubted Inoue-san.”

Orihime furrowed her brow. “Oh. I see.”

“No disrespect,” the other girl said. “I'm glad to see we were mistaken... Anyway, see you next week, Inoue-san.”

“Maybe you shouldn't hang out with them anymore,” Ichigo suggested as soon as they were out of earshot. “Not to dictate who you spend your time with, but...”

She sighed. “No, I get why they thought that. Maybe we shouldn't have kept this going this long.”

“What?”

“Our...fake relationship,” she clarified, unable to look at him. “It does more harm than good sometimes.”

He seemed to think this over. “Maybe.”

She felt herself deflate a little, inexplicably.

“How about we get you home?” he asked, pulling out his keys.

She watched the buildings roll behind them again, this time with less lightheartedness. Strange that this felt like a sort of breakup, even though they were never actually dating. When he pulled into the parking lot to her apartments, she let out a breath. He put the car into park, and they sat there for a moment in silence.

“Do you want me to walk you up?”

She cleared her throat. “You don't have to.”

He switched off the ignition. “I'll just take you. It's dark out.”

It wasn't even ten feet away, the stairwell, but he followed her nonetheless. She was unlocking her door when she decided to say, “I think I'm okay now, Kurosaki-kun. I don't think I need to keep telling people we're dating.”

“I mean,” Ichigo said from behind her. “If it helps, I don't mind it.”

“I think it's doing more harm than good, truth be told,” Orihime said. “It encourages people to ask questions I can't answer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Like what?”

“Like, specific questions,” she said. “And I... I don't want to keep asking you to show up to places short notice because someone decided they wanted to meet you. I... I don't want to keep you from living your life, and – and dating other girls if you wanted to!”

The silence dragged on for much longer this time, to the point that she turned to look at him. His eyes were on her, tight at the edges with some emotion she couldn't identify right now.

“Kuro – ”

“I don't... _want_ to date anyone else right now.”

“What?”

He looked away, seeming like he was about to turn and sprint down the stairs. He seemed to struggle with this. He stared at the space between them, throat working, before he finally met her gaze. Determined. “I don't want to date anyone else – right now.”

Orihime's heart thundered at her temples. She felt lightheaded. “What do you mean?'

“I mean that... I mean that I – I...” He folded his hand over his mouth, twisting away from her. He shut his eyes. “I'm...okay with you continuing to say I'm your boyfriend. I'm really, really okay with it.”

She sighed, dropping her shoulders dejectedly. “Kurosaki-kun, that's really not fair to you – ”

“I mean that I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Her breath got stuck in her throat.

His knuckles were white, and he couldn't look at her. This was the first time in her life she had ever seen his face redden like this. Not from exertion from a fight, but rather – rather –

_What?_

After a prolonged silence, she saw his expression fall. “You... You don't have to say yes. I'm sorry for forcing that on you so suddenly. I'll...go now...”

“No, I,” she rushed out, reaching out and then hesitating. “I'm – I – want that, too.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Her hand was flattened over her hammering heart, their eyes locked. Filled with uncertainty. “Okay,” she whispered back.

“Do you...want to go out tomorrow?” he asked softly, as if afraid to lose momentum. “Just the two of us?”

She swallowed again. “Yes. I... I'd love to.”

He nodded stiffly, backing up a step, making toward the stairwell, and then stopping. And then he crossed over, stopping just arm's length away. “Is it okay if I hug you goodbye?”

Her heart stopped.

“Too fast? I'm sorry.”

“Yes,” she blurted out. “I mean, no. Not too fast. I'd...like a hug.”

So he stepped forward, into her space. It was a reflexive urge to back away, but her arms opened anyway. And as Ichigo swept her into him, she eagerly wrapped them around him, her palms smoothing unintentionally across his upper back. She turned her cheek against his chest as he tucked her under his chin snugly, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

He smelled _amazing_.

Without seeming to mean to, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he pulled away. “Thank you for tonight,” he said, his hands moving to her shoulders, and then dropping away entirely.

She already missed the sensation. “Thank you, too.”

“I'll see you tomorrow then,” he said, taking a step back. And then another. “Goodnight, Inoue.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered, watching him disappear down the stairs. She slipped into her apartment, locking the door. Feeling unreal.

She decided that her first course of action would be to text Tatsuki.

Her second, to turn off her notifications and fall headfirst into bed.

This had to be a dream.

.x.

**Author's Note:**

> (Also, note: my main account was "urfriendlyneighborhoodpan" but I can't access that account anymore. I'll be posting through this one now!)


End file.
